Johnlock Oneshots (fluff)

24) Sher-sulks

Word Count: 1178
*John's POV*

To an average mind, Sherlock is a complicated and challenging person to be around, with unpredictable behaviours and rapidly-changing emotions. However, when one lives with him for five years and counting, one learns to read his moods like a book. For example:

First, there is Happiness. Happiness tends to occur when presented with a difficult case, often when there are several murders appearing to be connected. Happiness may also be apparent when piecing together the last fragment of evidence for a case, or when explaining methods and evidence to anyone who will listen. Sherlock tends to show Happiness through jumping around yelling or laughing, unless we are talking to someone else then he usually hides it behind a smirk or small, yet triumphant, smile.

Next, there is Anxiety. Anxiety has a habit of presenting itself through Bored, which can be similar and often confused. Whilst Bored may cause Sherlock to use Mrs Hudson's walls as target practice, Anxiety often causes pacing and rambling, as well as behaviours such as smoking or drug use. Although Sherlock will often insist Anxiety is actually Bored, this is almost always not the case. As well as Bored, Anxiety often visits after Sherlock has solved a case, and does not yet have a new one.

Then we have Anger. Anger is the worst emotion, usually appearing during a particularly frustrating case or if I had done or said something to upset him. Anger typically causes destruction of our flat: things thrown, then shot, then set alight; letters and paper ripped and torn; knives thrown into walls and occasionally the ceiling; et cetera, et cetera.

Regret quickly follows Anger. This would result in Sherlock slumping down into his chair, eyes fixated on the floor with no energy in them anymore. I quite like Regret, as evil as it feels to admit. Regret meant that Sherlock would fall into my arms and rest his head on my shoulder, sometimes (but not often) letting a few tears slide down his cheeks. We would re-organise the flat during Regret, putting things backs where they were supposed to go and fixing any damages to the best of our abilities to avoid getting told off by Mrs Hudson.

Often, Sherlock Holmes has been known to experience A Need For Comfort. A Need For Comfort is my personal favourite, as it means that he will curl up very close to me if I'm reading in our bed, putting his head on my stomach like a tiny puppy, or come into the bathroom whilst I'm showering and just sit on the floor without saying anything but simply to be near me. If I'm cooking or making tea he might approach from behind and wrap his arms around my waist or chest, resting his chin or cheek on my shoulder and sometimes placing gentle kisses on my face. More annoyingly, he will flop or climb onto me if i'm lying on the sofa or sitting in my chair, which is often quite uncomfortable but still fairly sweet. A Need For Comfort can come at any random time, but it is often common in the evenings or after or during Regret.

This information is all very, very important for the thing I am about to describe. It is, without a doubt, the most complex, adorable, and insufferable thing about the great detective. It is the Sher-sulk. As someone who has experienced many Sher-sulks, and also the one who invented the name, I can confidently say that they live up to the title. Sher-sulks are a carefully balanced mixture of Anxiety, Bored, repressed Anger, sometimes a tiny bit of Regret, and - most importantly - A Need For Comfort. Sher-sulks, like many other natural disasters, have to be on quite specific occasions in order to form. These include: it being the middle of the day or at least mid/late morning; not currently having a case or not being sent "good enough" cases; having eaten something at some point in the last three hours; wearing pyjamas and/or his sheet; and having woken up after me that morning, as it meant that he missed out on a first-thing cuddle. They would be more likely to occur if he was told he had to see Mycroft that day, but it wasn't a requirement.

On this particular occasion, I had gotten up early to help Mrs Hudson with some painting of her flat, as she had never really re-done it so I offered to help to make it look smarter again. I had left some breakfast out for Sherlock, knowing that he had just finished a case and would be quite hungry after not eating at all during it. Mrs Hudson and I finished the first coat of living room painting around 11, when she announced she needed to go out for some air and to run some errands. This being said, I decided to go and continue writing some more of my blog, as well as making lunch for Sherlock and I.

Opening the door to our flat, I looked around to see Sherlock lying huddled up on the sofa, his knees to his chest and in just his sheet, which I would usually find extremely attractive except I had quickly realised that he was indeed in a Sher-sulk. I sighed, bracing myself as I plopped down next to him on the sofa, looking at him expectantly. Sensing this, he sharply turned his head up at me to scowl, before pulling himself upright and grabbing the Union Jack pillow and hugging it. I turned on the TV, but he scowled and turned to look out of the window, ignoring the screen.

The show was actually pretty interesting so I sat there watching it for a bit, until Sherlock slumped his head into the pillow, which made me look over at him. It was quite cute, actually; his hair poking out from all sides and his hands still hugging the pillow. I put my arm around him tenderly so as to not startle him and pulled him into my body, where he laid his head onto my shoulder and placed his arms across my chest. I smiled down at him and gently kissed his head, rubbing his back with the hand around him and holding on of his hands with my other.

After a while, I heard Mrs Hudson return home and come up the stairs, knocking on our door and opening it. I turned off the TV and smiled up at her, which she returned happily at seeing me and Sherlock cuddling. I'm still not really sure what her obsession with our relationship is.

"I'm sure the painting can wait, dear," she said as she closed the door behind her, going back downstairs to her flat. I kissed Sherlock's head again and moved so I was lying down on the sofa and he was lying on top of me, turning the TV to a documentary about bees, which he turned his head to watch. I love this man.